Living the Dream

In the secret language of flowers,

tongue of masculinity resides

in perfect expression

of what catches the feminine eye.

Sufi draped and stalled wait

for sunshine to regenerate

words for peace

after palmy leaves

release their bundle into light

to rust in sealed-lip consecration

of prayers in regal costume.

Oh, that is the way of the world:

When hope is tender, taut and true

freshly released from coddle

we are splendid in our desires

to be beautifully unbent,

only to be whipped and warped

by acidic breath of those

who wish us ill

in greed and envy

for perfection

that is polluted

by sad, surrendered wishes

whispered from a dying bloom.

Tags: Harboring A Hope, Poems //